


star stuff

by brahe



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Introspection, Jim thinks a lot, Mentions of Christopher Pike, and the rest of the crew - Freeform, because Pike, because i have feelings, i don't really know man, i guess, it's just kind of a lot of words about jim kirk, slightly gratuitous amount of italics, spoilers for star trek: into darkness, talks about death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brahe/pseuds/brahe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's making his own way and searching for the rest of his soul, somewhere in space.</p><p>Or, Jim thinks about his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	star stuff

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings and they kind of exploded. Thus, fanfiction.

Looking back, he was always going to end up here. There was a constant pull, a never-ending desire to fly beyond the earth always sitting _just_ inside his attention. After all, he _had_ been born up in the inky black, and they always say everyone has a pull towards home. When he was a child, that served as his salvation, his saving grace. When times got hard, he would find himself looking up at the stars and thinking _I’ll be up there some day_.

As with all dreams, there was a time when he wanted nothing more than to forget about space and his wishes of flying. As he grew older, the shadow of his father grew with him. Everyone expected something of him, and he hated it. His hatred of his father’s legacy expanded into a burning distaste for the stars and everything related. He spent years pushing himself away from the ghost of his father, and at the same time found himself shoving aside his childhood dream to fly above the planet.

He found it ironic, really, that his dream returned to him in the form of a man who acted like a father. Only, this man was so different from the things he knew about fathers that he found he rather enjoyed it. It’s a wonderful feeling, knowing someone cares about how well you do in school and whether or not you come home at the end of the day. This man, in every way except biology his father, made him realize that he still dreamed of travelling the universe and that his soul still dreamed of returning home.

It still amazed him how much _life_ could happen in such a small amount of time. Everything he knew changed overnight, and kept changing, until change just became a constant. He had friends now, the beginnings of a chosen family, and he had found his salvation again. Instead of fighting off nightmares of his less-than-pleasant childhood, his nighttime hours were spent with visions of the stars. Never before had he wanted to leave the atmosphere so badly, never had he been so motivated.

After three years, he graduated with flying colors and a smile on his face. His chest ached when his “father” came up and congratulated him. _Someone’s proud of me_ , he had thought, his eyes suspiciously glassy. In that moment, he felt like a kid again, a kid with dreams of nebulae and supernovas.

The next few years went by so fast that it almost seemed like they weren’t real. In one moment, he was with his “family,” watching the universe around him in awe and losing himself in the stars, and in the next, everything was suddenly ripped from him. He lost his father figure; he lost large portions of his elected family; he lost close friends. What hurt the most was losing the sense of security and the feeling of innocent wonder at the world around him. It took a long time to forget the pains of the first years of his life, but it took _seconds_ for it all to come crashing back, with more. The instantaneous surge of _loss_ and _pain_ was overwhelming and almost brought him to his knees. With the loss of the one person who was waiting for him to come back home safe came the loss of the need to get back safe. Losing all those newbies that he trained and taught felt like losing his own children. A mantra of _too young, why them, why me, why now, why, why_ ran around in his head every second of every day. He was no longer enthralled with the inky black around him. No, that wonder was replaced with a much more dangerous emotion.

Revenge is a bitter thing. For what felt like forever, he ran on revenge and anger alone, barely sleeping, barely eating. Every thought, every move, every word, was aimed at the single goal of getting back at the man who ripped his life apart. It took the almost-death of his best friend for him to clear his head and get his act together. And thank the Lord he did.

Months later, the pain is still there. It’s become more of a dull ache, a slowly fading bruise on his soul. He’s wiser now, his eyes are older and his words carry more meaning. While he still finds endless excitement in space, he found that his saving grace is now in the people that stand by him every day.

 

Jim stands before the large window at the front of the _Enterprise_. The rest of the bridge is empty; the crew retired for bed a few hours ago. As much as he loves the bustle and noise and comfort that comes with a room full of people that are more family than anything, there’s just something about being alone with the shiny metal of his ship and the endless navy blue of space. Every now and then the ship creaks, the noise of cooling metal and the soft thrum of the warp core providing a constant background to his thoughts.

At least once a week, Jim finds himself standing here, in his old pajamas he wore back on earth, staring out into space and thinking about everything and nothing. This time, he lets his thoughts drift to Pike, the man he loved as a father. If it weren’t for him, nothing that occurred in the past few years would have ever happened. Jim owed him _so much_ , and sometimes it was too much. Since Pike’s death, Jim had only thought specifically about him sparingly. There was one time, with everyone on the bridge, where they’d just been drifting through the sparkling ends of a nebula when memories of Pike had come flooding in and Jim fell back into his chair with his eyes squeezed shut and his hands gripping the arm rests like they were the only thing tying him to the ground.

He got a better handle on his emotions after that; he didn’t need his crew worrying about him more than they already did. Pike’s death was just something he lived with, like his father’s shadow and Tarsus IV. That night was when he started this habit of silently standing watch, and if anyone knew, they didn’t let on. Spock probably knew, but then again, what didn’t he know? Jim huffs a laugh at that.

His mind’s eye turns towards what it felt like to die. At first it feels like sleeping; the world is black and you’re completely out of it, unaware of the world beyond your eyelids and unaware of your own self. And then it feels like falling and flying at the same time, like your body and your mind are separating, even though there’s still a string keeping them together. After that, it feels like you’re floating, like you’re a cloud gently drifting through a peaceful blue sky. Only, there’s a negative tinge to it that feels similar to the dread that comes with realizing you’re lost.

As Jim stands by the thin glass, he thinks that the feeling of being dead is a lot like the feeling of gliding through space. Everything is dark and there’s no good way to tell where you’re going and how fast you’re moving, but if you look close enough, there’s colors in the dark and it’s kind of beautiful. If you look around and try to focus on things, you almost feel like you’re intruding on some kind of private moment in time. Everything moves slowly but with practiced precision and you feel out of place at the same time you feel right at home. It all feels like some complex paradox of movement and stillness, and it hurts when you think about it too hard. There’s also this bittersweet feeling of _almost_ that’s so confusing and hard to describe that Jim can’t find the words. As he ponders it, Jim finds that as intriguing and interesting as the feelings that come with passing on are, he much prefers the emotions of living in space.

Part of it feels foreign. Jim thinks it’s because humans weren’t made to live amongst the stars. But the greater part of it feels so much like _home_ and _safety_ and _wonder_ that it trumps everything else. He decided a long time ago that he liked nothing more than looking out the window of a starship at the darkness completely surrounding him. Space, to Jim, is like a blanket made of stardust and infinity, and he never wants to leave.

Jim thoughts shift to his crew, his family. He still blames himself, no matter how many times everyone else tells him it wasn’t his fault, but he tries not to wallow. He’s still got plenty of “kids” left who need him focused and caring. Sometimes he wonders what Pike would think of him now, what he would think of Jim in the fatherly position. Jim hopes he’d be proud.

            Things are calm now, and Jim almost feels out of place. Almost. Right now, there’s nothing he wants more than for the peace to continue. His crew is happy, his family is happy, he’s happy. He takes another long, lingering look out into the abyss before turning his back to the black.

            Jim makes his way to his quarters, slowly withdrawing himself from his thoughts. When he lies down, he lets himself be lulled to sleep by the steady movement of his ship, and the only word on his mind is _home_.


End file.
